He believed her. He looked down at her and fingered his beard and knew that he must do her this kindness.
Hirga still knelt before him. «Do it quickly, Blade. Before I lose courage and become mad again. Before my body lusts again.»
He stroked the gleaming red hair. «Close your eyes, Hirga. Be at peace. It will not hurt.» «I thank you, Blade. Farewell.» «Goodbye, Hirga.»
Chapter 16
Beyond the bed was a door. As Blade approached it, the door swung open. Blade laughed and strode through and into a passageway. He carried the head of Hirga in his left hand, gripping it by the long red hair. In his right hand his sword was ready.
The passage sloped upward. Light gleamed at the end of it. The odor came again, fetid and obscene but somehow different. Worse. Blade hurried up the ramp.
He halted before a vast iron door. From a tube over the door the voice of Casta was whispering.
«Greetings, Blade. I had not thought you would get this far. I miscalculated my control of Hirga. You are a warrior and a man such as I have never seen before. All this I admit. It is a pity that we must quarrel. Do not enter this door, Blade. Wait in patience until I come to you. We will talk as reasonable men. With your brain and strength and courage, and with my secrets, we can rule the world together. As equal partners. Think on it, Blade. Wait. Do not go through the door.»
«Can you hear me, priest?»
«I can hear you.»
«Then hear this. I will pass this door. I will seek you out. I will kill you. Take my advice and, since you are a priest, pray.»
Laughter came from the tube. «I am sorry, Blade. I would not have you dead. But there is no cure for a fool.»
Silence. Blade waited. Silence. He kicked the iron door with his foot and it swung open.
He was in a den of some sort. Dim light came from torches all around. There was earth beneath his feet instead of stone and he trod in a mess of dung before he saw it. One corner of the den was in deep shadow. Something moved there and the sound that came out of the dark chilled his bones. A visceral, a gut-rending sound, a swallowing and bone-crackling sound. The creature was eating. Urdur?
Blade stood uncertain. So far the thing paid him no mind. He saw skulls littered about and bones and bits of corpses here and there. Did it feed on cadavers or live men?
He knew that he could not stand up to this horror for long. He was human. He must have at it, put all to the test, get it over with. Each moment he delayed, his courage seeped away. Blade had never known fear as he knew it now. And he had not yet seen the creature.
He picked up a skull and hurled it into the dark corner. «Come out, Urdur! Come out and be killed.» His cry echoed around the den. Did the thing know he was there, could it understand?
Something moved in the shadows. There was a dragging, a scrabbling sound, as though some beast pulled itself through mire. Blade ran a step toward it and halted, sword poised, swinging the head of Hirga in his left hand.
It emerged into the light.
The human brain-who better than Blade knew the tricks it could play. As he gazed at Urdur his memory fled back in time and dimension and he caught at a fragment from Hamlet.
… I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul. . freeze thy blood. . make thy two eyes start. . and each particular hair to stand on end.
Every hair on Blade's body was risen. Death touched his neck with icy fingers. He took a step backward, then another.
Urdur slithered toward him. It was half serpent, half dragon, with the head and fearsome teeth of a tyrannosaurus. Four-inch teeth glittering like daggers. Scores of them. Scythe-shaped claws on short, armored legs. Thick scales covered it, plates that would dent his sword-but for the underbelly. There the flesh was a putrid white, puffy and slack. The underbelly! That was his only chance.
Urdur stopped and studied Blade with reptilian eyes. It made a gobbling sound. From somewhere high on the walls came a chuckle. Casta knew.
It may have been the chuckle that saved Blade. That arrogant chuckle swelling into laughter. He leaped forward and hurled the blood dripping head at the creature. Urdur caught at the head with claws and began to rip it apart. For the moment he seemed to forget Blade. Small brains, Hirga had said.
As fast as a heartbeat he was in and had severed one of the Urdur's forelegs. He was out again. Claws grazed his thigh and the terrible fangs snapped behind him. Urdur roared and screamed, writhing. He lurched at Blade and then stopped. He began to eat his own foreleg.
Blade circled and dashed in again. This time he had to hack three times before a hind leg came off. Clouts of thick black blood sprayed him. The serpent body convulsed as Urdur reached back with his remaining foreleg, trying to get at his tormentor. Blade struck off the foreleg and danced away. Urdur's bellows of rage and pain filled the den. One hind leg remained. Strike that off, Blade thought, and I have won.
Smoke spurted into the den. From a dozen hidden apertures it came thick and acrid and stifling. Blade coughed and spat and coughed again. A thick brown fog obscured his view of Urdur. Blade retreated and circled around, feeling for the wall behind him. He lost sight of Urdur. He heard the slithering and the gobbling sound and knew that the creature was after him. Urdur could move on his belly, like a snake, and the smoke did not bother him.
Through the choking he heard Casta laugh again.
Blade stumbled over something. A skull. He picked it up. It was large, smooth. He, fixed his fingers into the eye sockets.
He was in a corner and Urdur had him. For the first time he smelt the breath of the thing and was sickened. Carrion stink. Urdur gobbled and slithered closer, reptile eyes gleaming. The terrible fangs made a clashing sound and the head darted at Blade. He jammed the skull into that lethal maw and heard bone crunch as the jaws snapped shut. Urdur gobbled and swallowed and roared.
Blade leaped high over the head and sprawled alongside the snake body. He felt the coldness of scales, fought off terror and revulsion, and forced his hand deeper, farther down until he felt the end of scales and the beginning of bloated flesh. There! There if at all. Hurry! Urdur was turning, arching, the fangs searching again. Blade guided his sword with his fingers into the soft flesh, put both hands to the hilt and thrust in, twisting with all his strength.
Urdur bellowed and threshed about. He rolled over Blade, near crushing him, and the touch of that foul flesh on his face set Blade to screaming. He hung on, forcing the sword deeper and deeper, twisting it savagely, hacking back and forth to enlarge the wound. Blood engulfed him. Cold blood clotted his face and gouted his chest and stank in his nostrils and mouth. Still he forced the sword in. Still he slashed and cut and backed.
Urdur died atop Blade. With a last effort Blade wrenched himself from under the great body and thought to rest a time. He bled and he hurt and he was near to dying of fatigue. He forced himself to his feet. No rest. He glanced around the den. No smoke now and no laughter. Casta was gone. Blade sought a way out of the den, found none and, for a moment, was frantic. Every moment counted. If he lost the priest now ….
He forced himself to calmness. The corner where Urdur had been feeding when Blade entered the den! He went poking back into the shadows, treading in slime and filth, and found an opening in the wall. It was a grille, hinged and held fast by a chain. Blade raised his sword and struck with fury and desperation. He broke the chain and his sword as well. He kept the hilt, with three inches of broken steel, and leaped through the sagging grille. He was in a tunnel that led straight on. Torches burned at intervals. Blade ran, his breath sobbing in his lungs. He came out into a wider passage and turned to his left and there was the leather curtain. Casta's lair.